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Irene West 



IRENE WEST, 

: : THE : : 

ACTRESS-CONVERT 



A SOUL'S APPEAL 

AND OTHER POEMS 

BY THE 

ACTRESS-CONVERT 
Irene West 




Publishers 

OUR SUNDAY VISITOR PRESS 

Huntington, Indiana 



^ 



^(^ 



Copyright 

by 

IRENE WEST 

1917 



-4 1918 
©CI.A481910 



PREFACE 



In presenting to the public this unpretentious 
collection of rhymes, which the faithful have pre- 
vailed upon me to publish, I wish to make clear, at 
the outset, my actuating motives. Those who are 
familiar with the story of my life, during the fifteen 
years which I spent on the stage, know how different 
were my Ideas and Ideals, before the light of faith 
radiated in my heart and mind. But those, who as 
yet, know nothing of my life before I entered the 
Church, I would earnestly desire that they first read 
the story of my conversion, which is included in the 
contents of this little book. 

It is to bring out in bold relief, the contrast be- 
tween the prodigal and the convert, that I have 
finally decided, not without misgivings, to lay bare 
the innermost secrets of my heart and soul — in the 
hope that it will teach a moral lesson to those who 
think, as I once foolishly fancied, that happiness lies 
in the sweet bitterness of pleasure. It is to convince 
them that sensuality is only a Dead Sea apple, fair 
and luscious to behold — but pluck it, — and lo ! it van- 
ishes in smoke and ashes. 

Some may feel disposed to censure me for ex- 
pressing so vividly those passions and sentiments 
over which the cloak of silence is wont to hang. 
They are not edifying in themselves, it is true ; but, 
like the Confessions of Saint Augustine, they go 



(7) 



forth into the great world as messengers of warning 
to the wayward and hapless. 

In the first part of the volume, the reader will 
perceive the agonizing struggle of a heart and soul 
cloyed with the pleasures of sense ; and though sated, 
yet ever seeking new and wilder sensations ; till the 
brain grew dazed in life's mad whirl. The old, old 
story, and alas! a story ever new is gradually un- 
folded, that nothing in this world can satisfy the 
heart and soul of man, created to the image and like- 
ness of God, but the moulding of one's life after the 
pattern of our Heavenly Prototype. The cry for help 
is heard in the "Heart's Appeal," and then the wail 
of utter helplessness goes forth in the "Soul's Ap- 
peal;" till, at last, the veil of darkness is drawn 
aside, and I stand in the Brightness of Eternal 
Light. 

The second part of this volume, written since I 
have possessed the precious gift of faith, speaks for 
itself. Many of the poems contained therein have 
appeared, from time to time, in various Catholic 
periodicals. 

It may interest the reader to know that the verses 
in the first part of this little volume were written 
under every variety of circumstances: the result, 
mostly of chance and occasional inspirations, which 
came to me while traveling on trains and steamers, 
or whiling aw r ay the time in dreamland. Some w T ere 
written behind the scenes, between acts, and some in 
Cafes ; for versifying has, as long as I can remember, 



(8) 



been my hobby ; like Pope, "I lisped in numbers, for 
the numbers came." 

In conclusion, I will add, for the benefit of those 
interested in my career, that this, my first publica- 
tion, is a sort of prelude to the narration of experi- 
ences, sentiments, and passions, to be revealed in my 
autobiography (now in course of preparation), 
which will unfold to the world a life of achievement, 
extravagance, romance, tragedy, satiety, disaffection 
and renunciation — all followed by the grace of God, 
which led me to embrace the Catholic Faith. 

THE AUTHOR. 



(9) 



DEDICATION 

This little chaplet of verse is 

hung as a 

wreath of love around the memory of my 

dearest friend Bessie Fledora 

(Mrs. David Warsaw) 

who died in London, October 14th, 1915 

R. I. P. 



CONTENTS 



PARTI 

Poems Written Before My Conversion 

Page 

A Thousand Years in Thirty-three 17 

Dreams of Hawaii 21 

All for Love 22 

Hawaii — Wondrous Land of Dreams 23 

Paradise of the Pacific 25 

The Hand of Time 26 

The Word's a Mockery 27 

Self-Reliance 28 

Stick to the Ship 29 

Beautiful Rio Janeiro 30 

Eyes 32 

My Boy 33 

A Baby's Curl 34 

My King 35 

Farewell 36 

Kindred Souls 37 

Moonlight Reflections 38 

Come 39 

My Bess and 1 40 

Smile-Seeds 41 

My Heart's Ideal 42 

What I Want 44 

Master Fate 46 

A Last Caprice 48 

The Struggle 50 

Life's Missing Link 52 

Murmuring Sea 54 

At Mother's Grave 55 

A Heart's Appeal 56 

A Soul's Appeal 57 

Story of My Conversion 59 



PART II 

Poems Written After My Conversion 

Page 

The Lord's Anointed 67 

The Sign of Faith 69 

The Convert 70 

Prayer of the Penitent 71 

A Fool's Paradise 72 

A Convert's Christmas 73 

My Scapular Medal 74 

The Rosary 75 

The Heavenly Trio 76 

A Child of God 77 

Beauty, Charm, and Chastity 78 

Hawaii — Paradise on Earth 79 

Farewell to Friend 80 

Reminiscence 81 

Buster Barnes 82 

To My Brother 83 

To My Mother 84 

Mine Not to Reason Why 85 

A God-like Man 86 

His Holy Will 87 

Ideal Love 88 

Forbidden Love 89 

From Out the Past 90 

Temptation 92 

Human Nature 94 

Refuge of Sinners 95 

A Faithful Guide 96 

Holy Mother Church 97 

Advice to the Indifferentist 98 

In Memoriam 100 



PARTI 

Poems Written Before My 
Conversion 



A THOUSAND YEARS IN THIRTY-THREE. 



(Written in New York City, on returning from London, 
after the declaration of war in 1914; and at a time when I 
was surfeited with pleasure.) 

A thousand years in thirty-three ! 
Too fast, you think, for one like me? 

The secret lies in knowing how 

To bend the twig and break the bough. 

My cup's been filled to overflow, 
For there's no joy I do not know; 

The fragrant rose has been my bed, 
The sweetest joys — where passion led. 

Life's luxuries most rich and rare, 
Bedecked my graceful form and hair : 

Life's pleasures all I waded through, 
Until my every dream came true. 

Those nights in Monte Carlo spent ! 
The moon, the wine, the fragrant scent ! 

The precious lover by my side, 
In memory will e'er abide. 

The gay cafes in gay Paree, 
Where I spent the nights in revelry ; 

(17) 



The boulevards ablazing white, 
How oft they thrilled me with delight. 

At Maxim's dining — nothing new — 
To eat, to drink, to love, to woo ! 

From Paris gay to London Town, 
'Twas pleasure mingled with renown. 

And at the races, on the Thames, 
A Cecil guest, displaying gems , 

New lovers worshipped at my feet, 
To fill and thrill my life with sweet. 

The costly presents at the door, 
Sweet roses scattered o'er the floor, 

Refreshed the heart so much admired, 
To erive and take of love desired. 



to- 



Fresh laurels won in every land ! 
Good men offered heart and hand : 

Such glorious trips upon the sea ! 
New lands, new joys, awaited me. 

In Naples' sunny harbor fair, 
I yachted with a millionaire ; 

In Rio Janeiro, my heart stood still, 
There love and life was enough to kill ! 

(18) 



In fair Hawaii's balmy air, 

I dwelt in Paradise while there ! 

Nor tongue nor pen of mine can tell — 
How sweet the essence of its spell. 

'Twas as a dancer on the stage, 
That youthful I became the rage : 

The flattery that strewed the way, 
Will linger till my dying day. 

Blood running riot in the veins, 

The heart expands till pleasure pains ! 

As in a dream I sped along; 
Life was to me a merry song. 

I somehow, somewhere, found the way 
To live a life-time in a day ! 

Till conscience forced a cry of — "halt! 
The world's too fast, its aim at fault." 

And now, yes now, I wake to find 
The fire burnt low in heart and mind ; 

No scene, no love, can kindle fire : 
The heart's exhausted from desire! 

I've lived — I've seen, and had the best; 
Life's stale and tortured with unrest : 

(19) 



So I advise, don't live like me — 
A Thousand Years in Thirty-three ! 



(20) 



DREAMS OF HAWAII. 



In fancy I am strolling 

On the Beach of Waikiki, 

And my very soul is pining 

For the days that used to be. 

In fancy I am dreaming 

The dreams of long ago ; 

My heart is wildly throbbing, 

And my cheeks are all aglow. 

In fancy I am loving 

Some darling on that shore ; 
Whose passion-fires ablazing 

Awaken me once more. 

In fancy I'm responding 

To the rapture of his spell : 

There is ecstacy in loving ! 

Though the penalty be hell. 



(21) 



ALL FOR LOVE. 



In fair Hawaii's tropic land, 
Upon Waikiki's silvery sand, 
Beside the wondrous coral strand, 
I gave my MIND to you. 

Beneath a banyon tree, one morn, 
Unfathomed love for you was born, 
And that your life be not forlorn, 
I gave my HEART to you. 

In joyful wooing by the sea, 
Enveloped in your love for me, 
Defying God's own prophecy, 
I gave my SOUL to you. 

You have my mind, my heart, my soul ! 
I gave to you the living whole ! 
Should Fate demand another toll, 
I'll give my LIFE for you. 



(22) 



HAWAII— WONDKOUS LAND OF DREAMS. 



(Written on the shores of my beloved Hawaii, on the 
occasion of my third world's tour in 1913.) 

beautiful gem of the ocean ! 

Set in coral strand: 
Such beauty the hand of nature, 

Has wrought in no other land. 

Paradise! — my haven, 

Enchanted spot of earth : 
Reflecting God's great glory — 

Man's gift from nature's birth. 

Thy breezes soft, and balmy, 

Quick soothe the wearied brain : 

My eyes feast on the splendor 
Of thy tropic sun and rain. 

I've roamed the wide world over, 

But no spot to me so rare : 
Did an angel drop from heaven, 

These lovely Isles so fair? 

As on thy shores I'm dreaming, 

Feeling thy wondrous thrill; 
Thy balmy nights entrance me, 

And my soul with rapture fill. 

Thou art the "Garden of Allah" ! 
From the weary world apart : 

(23) 



Thy peacef ulness will ever, 

Bring calm to the troubled heart. 

Life's turmoil is forgotten, 

Far from the madd'ning throng : 
'Tis easy to love one another, 

In this land of poetic song. 

These tawny natives holding 
The key to all that's best — 

They dwell in peace, — so happy, 

Close to nature's verdant breast. 

Though the world of fashion's calling, 
My life's enthralled in thee : 

How sad the bitter parting, 
Fair land, in peaceful sea ! 

The ungrateful world is beck'ning, 

A duty I must fill : 
Though my heart will ever pulsate 

At the memory of thy thrill. 

And Oh! when life is ebbing, 

They'll bring me to this land ; 

And dig my grave upon the beach, 
Beneath Waikiki's sand. 

Let breeze and song float o'er me, 

Where play the moon's soft beams ! 

My bones shall rest in peace with thee — 
O Wondrous Land of Dreams ! 

(24) 



PARADISE OF THE PACIFIC. 



(Written at the Volcano of Kilauea, 1913.) 

Hawaii's beauty is divine, 

A peaceful haven ever mine ; 
From ocean to the mountains' crest, 

The scenes enchant a welcome guest. 
From Pali, viewing the tranquil Isle, 

I spell-bound gazed — entranced the while. 
As Maui's Needle Point I scaled, 

At thought of legends old I quailed : 
'Mid Hilo's tropic showers, I saw 

What fills the human heart with awe — 
Kilauea ! weird, stupendous sight ! 

Bewildered I started from out the night : 
Enveloped in darkness, I felt the spell 

And fury of that seething hell ! 
Hawaii's nearest rival land 

Is Ceylon, with Colombo's silver strand — 
A shore that's lapped by Indian seas, 

With cinnamon groves and coco-trees. 
Hawaiian fantasies inspire 

And gratify my soul-desire : 
No music sweeter in the land, 

Than the plaintive strains of a native band : 
My being it stirs to ecstacy, 

And makes me loath to part with thee ! 
Thy gripping charm gives joy prolific 

Oh, Paradise of the Pacific ! 



(25) 



THE HAND OF TIME. 



Time brings to pass all changes great, 
To the weak, as to the bold ; 

Revealing good, and evil deeds, 
As the pages slow unfold. 

Time can heal a broken heart, 

Or break a heart that's whole ; 

Bring failure onward, with a rush, 
Or lift us to our goal. 

Time can turn a friend to foe, 

Or virtue into sin; 
Can raise a man to crowning heights, 

And cast him down again. 

Time makes, or breaks us, in its course; 

In early life or late ; 
We're powerless e'er to check the wheel 

That's grinding out our Fate. 

Time spells pain and pleasure too, 

In every age and clime ; 
For rich and poor alike must pay 

A toll to Father Time. 

To hold a love that's dying fast, 

Outwits all human skill ; 
For none can stay the hand of time, 

Against His Mighty Will. 

(26) 



THE WORD'S A MOCKERY. 



Friends! Friendship! the word's a mockery! 
When blessed with influence and wealth, 
Your friends desire to drink to your health : 
Be crushed beneath some direful task ; 
Ah ! see them flee, lest help you ask ! 

Friends ! Friendship ! the word's a mockery ! 

The greatest crimes on history's page, 
Have used its shield in every age; 
The greatest wrongs that memory damn, 
Took refuge in that empty sham, 

Friends ! Friendship ! the word's a mockery ! 

I'd sooner on a foe rely, 
Than cast my all in friendship's die ; 
They seldom stand the acid test, 
Beware of those you've treated best! 

Friends ! Friendship ! the word's a mockery ! 

Go down and out, in health and cash, 
And on the rocks they'll see you crash. 
Acid-test your friends on earth, 
If you'd know them for their worth. 

Friends! Friendship! the word's a mockery! 



(27) 



SELF-RELIANCE. 



Don't sit idly thinking and cursing your fate, 

Nor envy the man at your side ; 
But plow your own field, and plant your own seed; 

And reap your own harvest with pride. 

For how can you hope to measure your force, 

Unless it's been put to the test ? 
Remember, my friend, the lesson to learn — 

Is that good comes from toil, — and not rest. 

Whatever your strength — make use of its power 

And gather the golden pelf ; 
No man need you envy in life's surging throng, 

To conquer — have faith in yourself. 



(28) 



STICK TO THE SHIP. 



What if the world be against you today? 
What if your fated to lose in the fray? 
Just shoulder a gun, and fight hard to win ; 
No battle is lost while there's high hope within. 

If the bullets of Fate rain near and afar, 
Let resolve and ambition be your guiding star : 
Trust to your prowess, and sharpen your brain ; 
Nor harbor a thought, except that of gain. 

What if you're nearing the fiery test? 
Trust your own courage, and hope for the best : 
Concentrate thought where the mind firmly soars ; 
Stick to the ship, lad — the battle is yours ! 



(29) 



BEAUTIFUL RIO JANEIRO. 



(A farewell tribute to Rio Janeiro, written 1911.) 

In Rio Janeiro I stood amazed 

At the beauty of nature and art ; 
I sought a lofty mountain peak, 

To view the scenes apart. 
The city is on a harbor built, 

In a fascinating style ; 
With verdant mountains to enclose 

Its Palaces of tile. 
I've been in cities by the shore, 

(And tales I could relate;) 
From Scotland to the Southern Cross, 

And to the Golden Gate. 
No equal has this city fair, 

In vanity or vice ; 
And those who drink its beauty in 

Will stay to drink it thrice. 
The Avenida Central broad — 

What a splendid thoroughfare ! 
With extravagant, and bold display 

Of the gorgeous, rich, and rare. 
The Yankees own the power-house, 

Which turns night into day ; 
Their Parks and Avenidas all 

Are ablaze like the great "White- Way." 
The harbor speedway wonderful 

Is athrong, for many miles, 
With gay Brazilians quaffing life, 

(30) 



In woman, wine and smiles. 
The city of Rio, with wealth untold, 

Is rich and wide-open, too : 
A host of Grand Dames from Paris there, 

And gambling you can not eschew. 
Rio, though less than a million, leads 

In handsome motor-cars; 
And the natives' sparkling jewels shine, 

Like a million of summer stars. 
This bountiful city is abloom 

With a riot of trophical flowers : 
Here nature has spread with a lavish hand, 

What the human heart devours. 
As out of the harbor we slowly steamed, 

With longing I gazed at the shore; 
And beautiful Rio Janeiro will live 

In my memory for evermore. 



(31) 



EYES. 



What eyes ! Magnetic eyes ! What shade ? 

In truth I could not tell ; 
Yet, they were eyes that had the power 

To hold me in their spell ! 

Ah no ! not dancing, sparkling eyes, 

Or of a certain hue ; 
Just frank, wide-open, lovely eyes, 

That thrilled me through and through : 

Magnetic eyes, inspiring love — 

Were his ; and, in a day, 
We met, and wooed, and loved, and wed ! 

Ere each pursued his way. 



(32) 



MY BOY. 



If you love me, darling, smile, 
Take me in your arms awhile ; 
Tell me that you'll always be 
Just the same sweet boy to me : 
Tell me of your love so deep, 
And its secret well I'll keep. 

In all this world, my darling boy, 

You'll find on earth no greater joy, 

Than lies today right at your feet — 

A woman's love that's wondrous sweet : 

Though death the sacrifice should be, 

She could not stay her love for thee ! 

Though heaven and earth should say she sinned- 

Her love is yours unto the end! 



(33) 



A BABY'S CURL. 



soft and silky, golden curl ! 

From my darling's baby-head : 
Ah, how you mock and torture me, 
With a cherished hope now dead. 

1 see your mass of baby curls 

On a mother's breast of snow: 
I taste the joy that filled her heart, 
As she rocked you to and fro. 

That mother's babe, to manhood grown, 
And as strong, as good, as bold ; 

He loves me with a chivalry, 

That's akin to the Knights of Old. 

Dear baby's treasured little curl, 
You're a part of him I love ; 

Who lies at peace upon my breast, 
In a love ordained above. 



(34) 



MY KING. 



That night, beloved, what strange Fate bent 
your will? 
And tell me, too, how did you lose control ? 
YOU ! MY KING ! so handsome and so strong — 
And so unlike the common herd of men. 
Tell me, dear, — is passion born of love, 
Or is it love that's born of passion's heat? 
How little after all we really know, 
Though others we have loved so oft before! 

The memory of you is wondrous sweet ; 
Your kisses on my lips are burning still : 
You filled and thrilled me with such strange delight, 
Those moments that you lingered in my arms. 
How can I e'er forget that day of days ; 
That fatal night, my king, when first we met, 
And you, lay helpless, pillowed on my breast ? 
The object of my love's consuming fire ! 

You tell me, dear, you do not understand 
The spell Fate cast around our pulsing hearts — 
And yet, just like a child, you'd play with fire, 
To feel the wondrous rapture of my thrills. 
The agony of you is bitter-sweet ; 
You thirst and crave the nectar I would give : 
And yet ! and yet ! tell me, my beloved, — 
It is not best you crush me to your heart ! 



(35) 



FAREWELL. 



Soon the ocean rolls between us, dear, 

'Tis sad I must away; 
But where'er I go, your heart goes, too, 

Allured by love's sweet lay. 

For years and years, my heart's been dead, 

But now it beats again, 
And life, renewed by your embrace, 

Is surely not a bane. 

You are my only idol, dear, 

Our love shall never die ; 
Though I feel the pangs of parting, dear, 

Yet bear it, I must try. 

And so, good-bye, my precious love ! 

Be true while I'm away ; 
If it lay within my power, dear, 

You know I'd gladly stay. 

But Fate has willed it otherwise, 

So ends — what might have been; 

Still, sacred love you'll find unchanged, 
Whene'er we meet again. 

O calm this aching heart of mine ! 

I feel my soul shall die — 
Bereaved of light, and love, and life — 

Good-bye, dear heart, good-bye! 

(36) 



KINDRED SOULS. 



I often dreamed of him — my friend, 
And wondered what would be the end ; 
I heard his soul cry out in dread : 
"My lonely heart shall soon be dead!" 

By ether waves, the message found, 
Within my breast responsive sound ; 
With pulses beating like a drum, 
He caught the fleeting echo — "Come" ! 

On wings his spirit reached mine own, 
Ne'er more on earth to dwell alone : 
Our kindred souls, decreed above, 
Drink freely at the Fount of Love. 



(37) 



MOONLIGHT REFLECTIONS. 



I stood at the balcony window, 
'Mid ozone breezes sweet; 

The silent city sleeping 

Beneath my restless feet. 

And my precious lover! 

In the flood of a silvery moon, 
I prayed to the God above me : 

"Be our souls united soon !" 

In the moon I saw your image, 
That tenderly smiled at me ; 

It gave me hope and courage, 

And called me your wife-to-be. 

Then I felt your love about me, 

And knew that it came from afar ; 

Along with a blessing from heaven, 
On the wings of a shooting star. 



(38) 



COME. 



come to me, my darling ! 

My hope, my strength, my life ; 
Your loyal heart I cherish, 

Amid this world of strife. 

Eternal love shall buoy us, 

O'er the billow's raging storm: 

Come lift me, save me, darling, 

See! the vultures round me swarm! 

Defy the iron hand of Fate, 
Let love with life entwine ; 

Come ! — still the beating of my heart, 
And make me ever thine. 



(39) 



MY BESS AND I. 



Away from the city's madd'ning ways, 
Back to the life of our childhood days ! 
With nerve-fatigue and wearied brain, 
London we left by a mid-day train — 
My Bess and I. 

Strolling hand in hand down the country road, 
The city's burden to unload ; 
We roamed the fields afresh with dew, 
Where calm and sunshine life renew — 
My Bess and I. 

Gay butterflies we chased through air, 
While breezes tossed our well-trained hair ; 
We lifted roses drooped by rain, 
Whose fragrant perfume filled the lane — 
My Bess and I. 

Dame Nature is beautiful after all ! 
Though we heard the city's night-life call, 
We lingered there without care or strife ; 
We were happy leading "the simple life" — 
My Bess and I. 



(40) 



SMILE— SEEDS. 



Keep on asmiling, Jimmie dear, 

Still smile your way through life; 

Of future Fate you have no fear ; 
Nor yet, the pain of strife. 

You're always smiling in the morn, 
And smiling still at night; 

When sorrow on a smile is borne. 
It makes the burden light. 

That smile, which bounteous nature gave. 

Has armed you with a mask ; 
When dark prevails, 'tis sure to save, 

And aid you in the task. 

That smile will ease a broken heart, 

Or drive the blues away ; 
And plays a most important part, 

In all you do or say. 

Keep on asmiling, Jimmie dear, 

Reward will come to you; 
So scatter smile-seeds far and near, 

Then reap the harvest due. 

The friends you win are of the best, 
(You're winning all the while,) 

Nay ! my heart fell like all the rest — 
A victim to your smile ! 

(41) 



MY HEART'S IDEAL. 



Ah, man ! immortal man of art, 
How well I know your worth ! 

To find the hero of my heart, 
I circled round the earth. 

Since I was but a simple maid, 

Of sixteen tender years, 
I've hewed my way devoid of aid, 

And checked the flow of tears. 

My heart's ideal, is what I've sought, 

In every clime and land : 
With some, much havoc have I wrought, 

Nor lost my heart and hand. 

I searched four corners of the world ; 

I sailed on every sea ; 
I strained my eyes — in the city whirled, 

To see if it — were he. 

One day, when hope was waning fast, 

At a crisis in my life, 
A cynic-spirit rose at last, 

For the future threatened strife. 

But, the mist soon cleared before my eyes, 

And revealed his manly grace ; 
My heart in vain no longer sighs — 
I've met him — face to face ! 

(42) 



His sheltering arms — my cherished goal, 
As I list to his love's sweet song : 

Heart of my heart ! Soul of my soul ! 
why did you hide so long ! 



(43) 



WHAT I WANT. 



(Written while appearing at a London Music Hall, in 
1908. An early professional dream, most of which was 
realized.) 

I want a Castle on the Nile, of elegant device ; 

With gorgeous silks and satins, and a Bird of 
Paradise ; 

I want to see my diamonds, Maxim's chandeliers 
outshine ; 

To eat the rarest dainties grown, and drink the 
oldest wine. 

I want a handsome motor-car — a great big Silent 
Knight, 

With a nifty Jap as chauffeur, in a uniform that's 
bright ; 

I want a mascot on my car — a statue of gold will do, 

The American Eagle's wings outstretched, protect- 
ing me and you. 

I'd sit at the wheel in Paris, in a style that's all my 
own, 

And create a daring record, on the famous Bois 
Bologne ; 

At the Ritz Carlton I would dine, and make the 
guests all stare; 

Hear smothered admiration of my gems and mar- 
velous hair. 

In Riviera's sunny clime, with millionaires from 
town, 

I'd sound my name in every spot of note or great 
renown. 

(44) 



Tis there I'd mingle with those folks, of genius 

and fame, 
And place a few extravagant bets on a Monte Carlo 

game. 
In a cabin De Luxe I want to sail, and visit fair Rio 

again ; 
Where romantic air is life itself, though under sin's 

domain ; 
I want to write one startling book, of passion, and 

love, and life ; 
To win the man of my ideals, and be his only wife. 
I want my guardian AngePs light, with brilliancy to 

shine ; 
To feel his love inspiring me, and know he's mine — 

all mine : 
I want all this, and then, besides, I want Rocke- 
feller's worth, 
And as an actress, to eclipse — the greatest star on 

earth. 



(45) 



MASTER FATE. 



Fate, Master Fate, I know, 

Your mighty force can break 

The noblest promise ever made ; 
My all from me can take. 

A master gentle you have been, 
In days that have gone by ; 

You ne'er have brought me trouble, yet, 
Nor caused my heart to sigh. 

I've seen your victims suffer hell, 
And fall beneath your blows — 

Right at my feet; how I escaped, 
Alas ! God only knows ! 

I've plunged in sin and coveted 

Earth's pleasures, far and near; 

And gratified my heart's desire, 
With ne'er a thought of fear. 

Your path is like the whirlwind's rush, 

Taking a zigzag course ; 
Which neither time nor warning gives, 

To evade its mighty force. 

Tis now — just now — I sadly think, 
Perhaps you'll make a call, 

And humble me to mother earth, 
In the crudest fate of all. 

(46) 



Ah, well ! I'm glad you've waited long ; 

For sweet's been every day 
Of the life I've spent. Come — take your toll ! 

I'm ready now to pay. 



(47) 



A LAST CAPRICE. 



Yes, dear, I hear you calling: 
I'll come in spite of all ; 

E'en though the hour of parting 
May turn love's sweet to gall. 

No human force, or cunning, 

Can stay this heart of mine : 

It soars above all reason, 

To worship at your shrine. 

You are the magnet drawing, 
And I, the piece of steel; 

Your love the only force, dear, 
My heart has power to feel. 

Dear friends, recede I can not : 
The truth I know you tell ; 

My famished heart is thirsting 
To drink of love's mad spell. 

His arms outstretched to hold me ; 

I tell you, I must go ! 
I cannot hear your pleading — 

Regret ? Well — maybe so ! 

An arrow's struck the pendulum 
That sways within my heart ; 

His love — the piercing arrow, 
That binds me to the part. 

(48) 



I go ! in all my glory ! 

When waning love release, 
I swear by all that's holy — 

This — is my last caprice. 



(49) 



THE STRUGGLE. 



O heart of mine ! will you be still ? 
Lend me support to climb yon hill ; 
Stop spending force creating love; 
Desire instead those thing above : 
Cease craving that so close at hand ; 
Remember — there's a Promised Land. 

You burden me with such a weight, 
How shall I reach that Golden Gate? 
The mind is soaring toward the throne ; 
You can not fare on earth alone : 
Give up this world, and come with me, 
And greater joys I promise thee. 

Great your ambition to achieve, 

But why accomplish — just to leave? 

Today, his passion holds you fast; 

As well release him first as last : 

A hundred times your love's been fired — 

The old forgot, the new desired. 

Your little game of winning hearts 
Has kept me busy playing parts : 
The Will speaks now — you must obey; 
Too long, heart, you've had your way ; 
And when I conquer you at last, 
Repent you must for all the past. 

Ah! Why do you flutter — struggle — so? 
(50) 



No ! No ! I will not let you go ! 
A willful heart I'm forced to slay, 
And now, at last, I have my way. 
See ! dark despair shuts out the sun ! 

God! God! what have I done! 

Awake ! heart, and beat again ! 

1 will not call your love a sin ; 

I can not do that which I said: 
Love on — dear heart — until I'm dead. 



(51) 



LIFE'S MISSING LINK. 



(Written at the height of a gay season in Paris, 1912, 
after pleasure began to pall.) 

I wonder, in this mighty world, 

If any life's complete? 
Alas ! I crave and thirst for love, 

With suitors at my feet. 
The gods have been most kind to me, 

A humored, pampered pet; 
Still every living hour I feel — 

There's something missing yet. 

Though loved by those who round me cling — 

From every care set free — 
'Tis not enough to gratify 

The heart Thou gavest me : 
For all I've silks and jewels rare, 

I never cease to fret : 
My heart is sighing wearily — 

"There's something missing yet." 

Thus, smiling in false merriment, 

Ah ! how I've searched in vain 
To find the missing link of life, 

And bind its broken chain. 
Not all the joy nor wealth of earth, 

Can serve me to forget : 
The soul revolts and cries anew — 
"There's something missing yet!" 

(52) 



Though fortune showered me with its gold ; 

Enthroned me a queen of might : 
'Twould never ease the yearning pangs, 

Of my soul that's seeking light. 
Should life fail me this very day, 

I'd know but one regret: 
The happiness supreme I lost — 

Through something missing yet. 



(53) 



MURMURING SEA. 



Thou murmuring, sobbing, restless sea! 
I fain would know what troubles thee ! 

Thy bosom swells, I hear thee sigh : 
Perhaps, there is a reason why? 

My life, like thine, has calm and storm ; 
The blood runs cold, and then runs warm. 

Tonight, I long for peaceful rest 
Upon thy giant, heaving breast ! 

My bosom's restless as thine own, 
Spite love of friends I stand alone : 

Like thee, I'm mystic — fathomless — 
clasp me — grant me — lasting peace! 



(54) 



AT MOTHER'S GRAVE. 



(Thoughts inspired at my mother's grave, when, after an 
absence of twenty odd years, I revisited her place of burial — 
a prosperous theatrical sated with life's pleasures, yet 
despairing of real and lasting happiness.) 

O mother ! comfort me, 

For I'm alone this cold and starless night! 
Alone I sigh and weep for thee, 

In heaven's sight. 

Alas! 'tis sad indeed 

To lose a mother's tender loving care, 
For none our heartaches and our need — 

Like her will share. 

A score of years and more, 

Since I beheld my mother's open grave : 
Tonight, her love, as ne'er before — 

I thirst and crave. 

Now sinking in despair 

I have returned, tho dark the hour and wild ; 
And cry : "0 mother say a prayer 

For me, thy child!" 



(55) 



A HEART'S APPEAL. 



(Written in New York City, January, 1915, just before 
the illness that led to my conversion.) 

O God on high ! wilt Thou tell me why, 
With love's creative power, 
Didst Thou give me a heart, that is simply a part 
Of a desert — for my dower? 

Throughout life's span, has immortal man 
Been cast on its scorching sands ; 
Nor did he find, to ease his mind, 
The response true love demands. 

'0 God!" I cry, "Once more I'll try 
To have faith in Thy marvelous art : 
Let a star from above guide an ideal love — 
To the oasis in my heart." 



(56) 



A SOUL'S APPEAL. 



(As a woman of the world, recuperating from a recent 
illness, in Lakewood, N. J., April, 1915, I penned the follow- 
ing lines, about a fortnight before the first rays of light 
pierced the darkness of my soul, and let me to investigate the 
sublime truths of religion.) 

O God ! wilt Thou not help me clasp 

My yearning souTs desire? 
This restless, pulsing, throbbing heart 

Consumes me with its fire. 



It craves for that beyond the reach 
Of mortal power so weak; 

Wilt thou not give me ready aid? 
Thy helping hand I seek. 

If Thou wilt help me understand, 
I'll strive and slave to cast 

A perfect "something" from Thy mould, 
And do Thy will at last. 

I seek to know Thy bidding Lord, 

And do my duty well ; 
I know it is Thy will divine, 

And not a lure of hell. 

But answer Thou my prayer tonight, 

Tomorrow I'll begin 
To toil throughout the coming years, 

A crown in life to win. 

(57) 



Leave me not groping in the dark, 
In search of my cherished goal ; 

Lord ! wilt Thou not stoop and lift 
My yearning, anxious soul ! 



(58) 



Irene We3l 

WELL KNOWN ACTRESS TELLS STORY 
OF HER CONVERSION. 




A reproduction of the facts and truths which united me 
to the soul and body of the Catholic Church, as first revealed 
to the public in February, 1916. 

BECAME A CATHOLIC when I was thirty-three 
years of age, a real woman of the world, having 
spent fifteen years of my life in the theatrical 
profession, during which time I made several 
complete tours of the world. It was in New 
York City, January, 1915, that I underwent an 
operation, the very first illness in all my life, 
and I took it very hard, so much so, that I 
seemed to despair altogether; for I had really seen and en- 
joyed so much of the material things of life that I had no 
desire to live any longer. It seemed to me that the remaining 
years must only be a monotonous repetition of the past. I 
had attained success, had traveled the world over, had wined 
and dined to excess, had fine clothes and diamonds until I 
had tired of the sight of them. It seemed as though every 
great wish and desire of my heart had already been gratified. 
How well I now realize that I had no truly great desire! 

I had been a widow for several years, and refused abso- 
lutely to marry again, as I loved my freedom too well. I was 
my own counsel in all things, at all times. I was loved by 
many, but loved myself better than all. I was never truly 
happy or contented. My most intimate friends called me 



(59) 



selfish and self-centered. I received all costly gifts and added 
success as a matter of fact, and never appeared grateful for 
anything. 

All my life I had experienced an inexplicable longing for 
something which I seemed never able to gratify. It was not 
success, it was not love, it was not money, for I had all of 
these, yet I kept right on searching the world for this missing 
link of my life. How little I dreamed of the truth — that it 
was faith. 

My mother had died when I was very young, and my 
father was not a church member, though I always knew that 
he was bitterly opposed to the Catholic doctrine. As a 
youngster I was sent by my stepmother to the Methodist 
Sunday school, but I really never received enough religious 
education to impress my mind; the result of which was that, 
after I entered the theatrical profession, I never gave a 
thought to churches or religion. Sacred things and images 
always gave me the shivers, and made me recoil, though, 
thank heaven, I was never blasphemous. 

As soon as I was out of bed after my operation, my 
physician sent me to Lakewood, New Jersey; and it was while 
convalescing amongst the lakes and pines of that beautiful 
little resort, that I was converted. It so happened that the 
beloved friend, who was my companion at the time, was a 
Catholic born and bred, and one of the noblest and most beau- 
tiful characters I have ever known. One Sunday morning he 
suggested that I accompany him to Mass, and I don't quite 
remember how or why, but my answer was: "Well, I don't 
mind, as there is little else to do in a quiet, lonely burg like 
this." The thought of that remark makes me blush with 
shame. I simply thought to pass the time away, as I still felt 
very ill and despondent — had a sort of feeling that, I'm good 
for nothing else in this condition, so I'll stroll in here and see 
what goes on. In my normal state of health, I would have 
refused and passed some little joke about the "church falling 
in if I ever entered." 

We went to Mass. I was not long seated when I began 
to feel strangely uncomfortable. I was thoroughly in the 

(60) 



grip of the holy and sacred atmosphere, and my whole being 
seemed first to revolt, then to respond, until I absorbed more 
of the true spirit of religion than I had known in all my life 
before. Then I began to weep, and, oh! I can never express 
what I felt! All pride left me, I felt crushed, humiliated and 
humbled to the very earth. A panorama of my whole life 
swept before my eyes. I realized the nothingness of it all, 
and the truth seemed to rush upon me with such force that I 
was beside myself; for I could not possibly restrain my weep- 
ing, although crying was something I had always despised in 
others as a sign of weakness. Well, when I walked out of 
that door, I felt as if every sacred image in that little church 
of St. Mary's by the lake had thrown an elastic streamer 
around my heart, and that, although I went, I should never 
again be free, not in the same sense. I felt that I was being 
held in captivity, but, once outside, I tried to shake off the 
feeling. I knew that I was not, and never should be, as I was 
when I entered that church. 

Next day my friend suggested that we call on one of the 
priests, and as that one Mass had left an indelible impression 
on my mind, I assented. We called at the rectory and met 
Rev. James J. Powers. After getting a few particulars of 
my case, he asked if I would care to take instructions. He 
seemed such a grand man, so noble and worthy of veneration, 
that I could not refuse; so it was agreed that I should call 
every afternoon for instructions. 

Once alone in the silence of my own apartment, I realized 
that the lure of a true faith was in my bones, but I resolved 
to be fair and investigate both sides. Luckily I was not preju- 
diced toward Catholicism, but I was fearful that my friends 
might say I had been led with my eyes shut; so while Father 
Powers was giving me instructions, unknown to him, I called 
on a certain Protestant minister of the American Episcopal 
church, and told him that I wanted to embrace some faith, but 
was undecided whether to accept the Protestant or Catholic 
doctrine. His ready answer was: "Well, if you become a 
Catholic, you at once become throttled.'* 

I told him that I wanted to be convinced, then, why I 

(61) 



should not become a Catholic. He gave me books to read. 
So did Father Powers. I read both. While Father Powers 
showed the deepest interest in my case, the minister seemed 
indifferent. As I read books given me by both sides, I made 
notes of the points I wanted explained, and questions I wanted 
to ask. Each day when I called I bombarded them with my 
list of carefully thought out queries. The Father made every 
point clear to my mind, though sometimes he could not an- 
swer me until the following day, when he had had time to 
look it up, as he admitted I probed deeper and asked ques- 
tions he had never before been asked by any convert. 

When I attacked the minister with a volley of questions 
taken from the books he gave me to read, he always tried to 
evade the point at issue, and made no direct attempt at any 
explanation. He had been a lawyer before he became a min- 
ister, and was a very shrewd gentleman, but I was his equal 
in this particular case; for I knew the world, was a good 
judge of humanity, had intelligence, and was not so easily 
side-tracked or convinced. Well, the climax came when I 
wanted him to prove to me that the books they refer to as 
the "false decretals" were really forged. I said: "Convince 
me of this and I will never become a Catholic." His answer 
was: "Now, who asks a question like that in these days?" 
"But," I said, "you would not dare make such an accusation 
in your literature without positive proof at hand. Surely I 
must first know what I believe and why I believe, before I 
can embrace a faith." He showed plainly that he was an- 
noyed at the way in which I was cross-examining him, and 
was anxious to be rid of me, for he said: "My advice to you 
is to join any church you think you can serve God best in," 
showing plainly that he had no convictions of his own, nor 
the courage to convince others. 

On the other hand, Father Powers convinced me beyond 
the shadow of a doubt upon every objection or conceivable 
point that was not clear in my mind. 

I was instructed, and studied, and read very hard for one 
month, when I was ready to embrace the Roman Catholic 
faith, to live a Catholic, and die a Catholic, being thoroughly 

(62) 



convinced and believing all that the Church teaches and 
claims. 

Investigation showed that I had never been baptized, so 
I was baptized a Catholic by Father Powers on the 14th of 
May, 1915, at Lakewood, New Jersey, and received Holy 
Communion the next morning (Sunday) and was confirmed 
the same afternoon by Bishop McFaul, of Trenton, New 
Jersey. 

I am more proud of my faith than all else I possess in this 
world, and I am now truly happy and contented, and more 
grateful for a slice of bread than I used to be for a diamond 
sun-burst. I attend Mass regularly every Sunday, and am a 
frequent communicant. 

Although nearly all my associates happen to be either 
atheists or luke-warm Protestants, I am as firm as the Rock 
of Gibraltar, and have the courage of my convictions. I bless 
the day I was stricken low in health, for it proved a blessing 
in disguise. I never cease blessing Father Powers, who, 
through the grace of God, gave me a new lease on life and 
put me at peace with my Creator and the world. I firmly be- 
lieve that any unprejudiced mind desiring to embrace a faith 
and investigating both sides, from the birth of the Saviour 
down to the present day, must in the end, accept the Mother 
Church as the true and perfect guide to eternal salvation. 




(63) 



PART II 

Poems Written After My 
Conversion 



THE LORD'S ANOINTED. 



(To the loving memory of the Rev. James J. Powers, who 
instructed and baptized me in the Faith, on May 14th, 1915, 
at Lakewood, N. J.) 

Anointed of the Lord, 

How can I e'er requite 
The precious boon thou gavest me, 

In faith's soul-flooding light? 

Thy hand first drew the veil 

That hung 'twixt night and day, 

Revealing boundless heights and depths, 
Which God's great love portray. 

How vain the follies now — 

That lured, but to debase ! 
Since thou hast poured upon my head, 

The cleansing stream of grace. 

Commingled with its flood, 

My tears of sorrow, shed 
Upon the grave of memory, 

Efface the past now dead. 

That priceless gift from thee, 

That pearl of worth untold, 
I'll treasure in my heart for aye, 

Within the one true fold. 



(67) 



As mariners are led 

By the gleaming star of morn, 
The faith thou gavest me will guide 

My steps to heaven's high bourn. 

priest of God, how great 

The consolation thine, 
That thou hast power to reunite 

The human and divine ! 

Dear Father, I revere 

The memory of thy name — 
Thou Instrument of God, who didst 

My heritage reclaim ! 



(68) 



THE SIGN OF FAITH. 



The curtain's slowly falling; 

Act one at last is o'er : 
A new life's gently calling — 

Knocking at my door. 

When next the curtain rises, 

How changed the scene shall be ! 

sweetest of surprises ! 

The Sign of Faith I see. 

world of woe and wasting ! 

To thee I say farewell ; 
For now true joys I'm tasting, 

Beneath love's potent spell. 

I've drained thy bitter cupful: 
I'm wearied of thy ways ; 

This heart of mine is hopeful 
To serve God all my days. 

I'll throw its door wide open, 
To welcome Him at last; 

precious, precious token, 

I'll break now with the past. 

Behold ! I tread on sacred ground, 
In God's own heart I dwell : 

My future life will yet confound 
The cunning foes of hell ! 

(69) 



THE CONVERT. 



(Written at Lakewood, N. J., May, 1915, just after my 
conversion.) 

One parent lost in childhood days, 

The other owned no creed ; 
My early steps strayed from Thy path, 

For lack of one to lead. 

I wandered down life's highway fast, 
Down, down with fatal stride ; 

Though draining pleasure's sinful cup, 
I was unsatisfied. 

A woman grown, I learned the truth ; 

Aspired to higher things: 
I felt my soul aquiver go, 

As fluttering on wings. 

A soulless body to be mine ! 

God, how can it be ! 
My conscience woke, at last, to light : 

God gave me grace to see. 

Vain tinsel, silks and jewels bright, 

All gathered in exchange 
For mine immortal, priceless soul ! 

Alas, how wondrous strange ! 

True faith alone can bring us peace, 

Allied with cheery hope, 
And charity's celestial zeal, 

As through the world we grope. 

(70) 



PRAYER OF THE PENITENT. 



Sacred Heart of Jesus, hear ! 

For Thee I've learned to love and fear; 
Lo ! fetters fall like withered leaves : 
To Thee and Thine, my being cleaves. 

From out a dark and sinful past, 
I've come to light and life, at last ; 
Thus, aided by the Holy Ghost, 

1 worship Thee, my Lord and Host. 

Behold me prostrate at Thy feet! 
Though I've been burnt by Satan's heat, 
Thy mercy, Lord, hath rescued me — 
Repentent tears have set me free. 

The things of earth shall never bar, 
Nor with my God set me ajar : 
Dear Lord, what life is left to me, 
I consecrate the whole to Thee. 

My heart must ever grieve and bleed, 
For havoc wrought by heedless deed : 
Chastise my flesh and cleanse my soul ; 
Lord exact from me Thy toll ! 

Thy boundless mercy did beget, 
And snatch me from the Devil's net ! 
A contrite heart to Thee I give, 
Since Thou hast willed that I shall live. 

(71) 



A FOOL'S PARADISE. 



My faith is not a thin veneer, 

(I care not for the DeviPs sneer), 

It permeates my very soul, 

And lifts mine eyes to heaven's goal. 

I know thee, faithless, wicked world, 

Once in your giddy throng I whirled. 

A word I say unto the wise : 
"Beware ! for Satan underlies 
Your wanton life and share in vice ; 
Repent : hell casts but loaded dice ! 

stagger not upon the brink ! 
Return, and seek life's missing link." 

A woman of the world was I, 

Who erred, nor stopped to reason why : 

1 ran amuck in strife and din — 
Indulged in passion, vice and sin — 
Until I heard the Master's voice, 
And then, by grace, I made my choice. 

When all by folly you have lost — 
'Tis then that you will count the cost, 
Of being Satan's patron great ; 
I warn you now ere 'tis too late. 
So, one and all, heed this advice — 
The world is — a Fool's Paradise! 



(72) 



A CONVERT'S CHRISTMAS. 



All Hail ! sweet Babe of Bethlehem ! 
Thou light of earth, and hope of them 
Who do Thy Will and understand 
This great rejoicing through the land; 
And, as a Christian, now I know 
The reason Thou art worshipped so. 

But, in the dark and sinful past, 
What did I know of prayer and fast? 
The wine, the feast, the costly gift, 
Once pleased my aimless soul adrift. 
All gladsome sing! Rejoice I say — 
For Christ was born on Christmas Day ! 



(73) 



MY SCAPULAR MEDAL. 



No diamond sun-burst now adorns my throat, 
Nor string of pearls to nestle on my breast ; 

Once on my gems I wantonly would dote ; 

Tis now I know — their light was false at best. 

The Saviour and the Virgin cast in gold, 
The only jewel I care to own today; 

Its lustre brighter than my gems of old : 

Through sin's dark shade it lights the gleaming 
way. 

Embossed upon the locket is a cross, 

That stays me when I'm weary, wan and weak ; 
And courage gives to bear with every loss, 

Beneath, my proud heart, now, is lowly, meek. 

My diamonds' blaze once lured me gaily on, 

Through vanity's false path, to shame and vice ; 

In ways of sin, from evening until dawn, 

They shed temptation round — my soul, the 
price ! 

My scapular's soft, hallowed light serene 

Will lead me onward, upward till the last : 

To me, 'tis far more precious, (though unseen) 
Than all the jewels that bedecked the past. 



(74) 



THE ROSARY. 



When I am weary and alone, 

And thoughts are running wild ; 

A voice cries out : "The Rosary 
Will comfort thee, my child." 

When tempted to an evil deed, 
And lost in a world denied; 

A voice cries out : "The Rosary 

Will guide thee right, my child." 

Reminder of a mother's love, 

For a banished child of Eve : 

Sweet Rosary, thou bringest peace, 
To hearts that mourn and grieve. 

The light set by the window pane, 
To greet the truant's eye — 

How like the rays that thou dost shed 
Upon the hearts that sigh ! 

More priceless far than precious pearls, 

The glory of my beads, 
That shines upon my stricken soul; 

Encompassing my needs. 

would that faithful souls but knew 

Thy holy worth divine ! 
That each and every one might taste 

The joys that now are mine. 

(75) 



THE HEAVENLY TRIO. 



My Mind — is a ship plowing onward with might ; 
My Heart — is a compass that's guiding me right; 
My Soul — is an aeroplane ready for flight. 

With a mind bounding forward, a heart keeping 
steer, 

And a soul ever ready to soar; 
I quickly make haste, nor time shall I waste, 

Till I reach heaven's fair golden shore. 

If I'm true and courageous and cling unto faith, 

This Trio's united to win ; 
The mind, heart, and soul, all aim for one goal — 

The body without, and the spirit within. 



(76) 



A CHILD OF GOD. 



(To a friend) 

friend of mine, with love aflame, 

The sweetest, noblest of your kind ; 

In perfect harmony with Him, 

Who radiates your heart and mind. 

Your glance or touch of mystic love, 

Another's struggling soul can bare : 

You are a master-piece of God, 
Exhaling sacred perfume rare. 

The world is better that you live ! 

Your golden heart's a hallowed shrine ; 
The Infinite has made it so, 

And there has placed His love divine. 



BEAUTY, CHARM, AND CHASTITY. 



The fairest flower of Eden ; 

The goal of Cupid's dart; 
Created with perfection 

Is the woman of my heart. 

Her voice is sweetest music, 
Dispelling fear and harm; 

It's tender cadence thrilling 

Doth conquer with its charm. 

Her soft cheeks ever flushing — 
The hue of setting sun : 

Her eyes — the blue of heaven 
Ere the day is done. 

Her golden tresses waving, 

Like fields of ripened wheat: 

Her lips — a rose full blooming, 
True essence of the sweet. 

Her soul, with halo gleaming, 
Illuminates her heart: 

Her form — divinely moulded — 
A master-piece of art. 

This jewel rare of womanhood, 

A vision fair to see, 
Hath beauty, charm, and chastity 

And all of them for me ! 

(78) 



HAWAII— PARADISE ON EARTH. 



Where rain and sunshine mingle ; 

Where sea and mountain meet ; 
'Mid breezes soft, and palms aloft, 

And floral fragrance sweet : 
A mellow moon, thru floating clouds, 

A faithful night watch keeps; 
Where a land that's fair, beyond compare, 

In a coral cradle sleeps. 

There sun sets o'er the ocean, 

And skies are rainbow-hued ; 
There mother earth, of untold worth, 

With heaven's tears bedewed, 
Has given to her children fair — 

Of melody and mirth, 
All a heart could crave, this side the grave, 

In a PARADISE ON EARTH! 



(79) 



FAREWELL TO FRIEND. 



Farewell, dear friend, sweet friend, farewell : 
Oh, how I'll miss your cheery smile ! 

When days were dark and skies were gray, 
You kept me smiling all the while. 

Just like a lovely hot-house rose, 
Unblighted by a winter's day, 

You shed a perfume rich and rare, 

On all who chance to pass your way. 

A rose, of earth and heaven born, 
So human yet divine your heart ; 

To know you is to love you, dear, 

Oh, how I'll miss you when apart! 

With a heart and soul in sympathy, 

Reluctantly I bid adieu, 
To all your love and tenderness : 

Farewell, sweet friend — farewell to you ! 



(80) 



REMINISCENCE. 
(J. T. F.) 



Sun-kissed, we sat beside the glist'ning sea ; 

Nor talked we everlastingly of earth, — 

But of love's mysteries, beyond its girth : 
Within the gaze of God alone, sat we ; 
Our hearts rejoiced the while in childish glee : 

You spanned my scattered hopes, and made 
them whole ; 

You lifted up my heart, and mind, and soul : 
It lives for aye, the good you taught to me. 

You proved to me the nobleness of man ; 

Your every word, and thought, and deed, was 
just: 
Your love, and life, bespoke His holy plan ; 

In thought we soared above the herds' grim 
dust : 
I saw my course loom broad, and straight, and true. 
I'm steering by the compass — Faith and You. 



(81) 



BUSTER BARNES. 



(The Pride of Boston Terriers.) 

"Buster Barnes," I've many friends, 
So loving, kind, and true, 
But none, I swear, that love me more 
Devotedly than you. 

Today, a wealth of love is mine ; 
Ah ! will it e'er be so ? 
The heart of man is wont to change, 
As the tide to ebb, and flow. 

And fickle fortune — who can trust? 
It comes, and goes, at will : 
Let friends and fortune, too, desert — 
Your love will linger still. 

In health, in wealth, in poverty, 
In sorrow, and in shame ; 
And all vicissitudes of life, 
That I in truth acclaim — 

When needed most — not one stood by 

To aid me o'er life's bog : 

But you — dumb friend — have stood the test — 

ever faithful dog ! 



(82) 



TO MY BROTHER. 



Of all the heroes of my heart, there's one 

More brave, more strong, more tried, than all 
the rest : 

No father ever reared a nobler son, 

(Or mother held to her fair heaving breast,) 
Than my beloved brother, truly blest: 

But ah ! it was not so, I fear, with me ; 

For I was bad, while good and true was he. 

In childhood, we were comrades, he and I ; 
In girlhood, he protected me from sin ; 

In womanhood, I failed to reason why 

His pleading eyes besought me ne'er begin 
A life that leads to death amid the din. 

Alas ! vain luxury and ease, my aim — 

While christian, husband, father, he became. 

In all his habits, temperate and mild : 

A reckless, hapless wanderer — my fate. 

There were but two ; yet, one a wayward child : 
No erring one has known a truer mate ; 
His joy ! to see me rescued, ere too late. 

Beloved brother mine ! thank God anew — 

I have returned to chastity, and you. 



(83) 



TO MY MOTHER. 



Mother dear, are you o'er joyed, 

As you gaze from your home above- 
That all my heart and soul now crave, 
Is merged into one great love? 

Into love of God and righteousness ; 

And love of truth and you: 
Into love for rich and poor alike, 

And friends that are old and new. 

The FAITH that you, O mother dear, 

So loved in life is mine : 
cruel Fate — that others did 

Withhold you from its Shrine ! 

Tho you were called so young in life, 

And I to fortune sold — 
Sweet Jesus saved me, mother dear, 

Tho firm was Satan's hold ! 



(84) 



MINE NOT TO REASON WHY. 



I know a man who is content 
To live from day till night : 

His heart is not on fortune bent ; 

The force and strength of him is spent- 
In toil, and life aright. 

Beside him stands a faithful wife ; 

A mate of many years : 
More stormy might have been his life, 
Had she not borne his pain and strife, 

And wiped away his tears. 

Altho a child of his — am I — 

(With mother long since dead) 

It is not mine to reason why ; 

She, too, was cast in noble die — 
The last that father wed. 



(85) 



A GOD-LIKE MAN. 



Of all kind Fortune's given me, 

I treasure you the most : 
Your heart of gold, I fain would hold ; 

You are my angel host. 

From your dear love I draw my strength, 

All best in me's — of you : 
God-like man, of noble clan, 

Your virtue — let me woo ! 

Pillar of strength, and righteousness! 

Inspire me with your soul ; 
And help me climb, through realms sublime, 

From earth to heaven's goal. 



(86) 



HIS HOLY WILL. 



To night, all joy must end for me ; 
Life's crucified, by God's decree ! 
The suffering, Lord, is great ; 
A lover's love must yearn and wait. 

His love I sacrifice for Thine, 
O, ease this bleeding heart of mine ! 
The human and the spiritual, 
Both in the flesh are wont to dwell ; 

And these to separate on earth, 
When moulded one from date of birth 
No heart so strong beneath the sun ; 
Yet, by Thy Holy Will— 'tis done! 



<S7) 



IDEAL LOVE. 



phantom that enraptures me ! 
Did I not long since bury thee? 
Cease thou mocking night and day ! 
Not I — but God decreed the way. 

Here, hope of love and life ideal, 
Is not for man — 'tis angel's weal : 
Vain hope of paradise on earth, 
Deluges mortal man from birth. 

hear me, aching heart of mine ! 
Why worship longer at the shrine 
Of love so luring, yet untrue? 
Tis but a phantom that we woo. 

Life's cherished hope I've buried deep 
In silence let the mystery sleep ; 
They know — who lie beneath the sod — 
There is no Ideal Love — but God ! 



(88) 



FORBIDDEN LOVE. 



Forbidden love from out the past, 

Thy tempting is but vain 
I've sworn obedience, until 

The flesh of me is slain. 

Why dost thou haunt my waking hours, 

And rob me of my sleep ? 
Art thou so loath to part with me, — 

A rescued, erring sheep? 

O blighting love ! that thrilled me once,- 
Thou dead and faded flower ! 

Why pierce with cruel thorns my brow, 
Each living, breathing hour? 

I've cast from out my garden plot, 
Life's passion rose of red ; 

And spotless Easter Lillies rare — 
Faith planted there instead. 

O scarlet rose, of passion born ! 

Thy memory but sears : 
On sorrow's grave sweet lillies bloom, 

Where fell my burning tears ! 

And so, I plead : "leave me in peace, 

Vain folly of the past ! 
Love for the Babe of Bethlehem, 

To virtue binds me fast." 

(89) 



FEOM OUT THE PAST. 



I sat with old familiar friends, 
In haunts of hidden strife ; 

Where music, lights, and merriment, 
To the shallow soul is life. 

In glasses filled with sparkling wine, 
(A toast from every lip,) 

Voluptuous passion unrestrained, 
Lurked deep in every sip. 

I saw bewitching maiden's eyes 
The souls of men ensnare ; 

I saw the villian, deep in dye, 
Enslave his victims there. 

I watched two of the worldly-wise 

Thus seated side by side ; 
I heard wild whispered words of love, 

And knew full well they lied. 

The man debased, was married, too, 
With children, home and wife ; 

To feast on other wanton lips, 
He staked his all in life. 

The woman was a trusted wife ; 

She— fair of form and face, 
Made merry with the Broadway throng, 

And courted sin's embrace. 

(90) 



Above the laughter's hollow ring, 
Was heard the clink of gold ; 

Announcing cash paid for the souls, 
Of priceless worth untold! 

At last, I felt my soul revolt ; 

An iced hand gripped my heart : 
The ghastly sight so sickened me, 

I struggled to depart. 

I cried aloud : "0 God forbid 
Such folly, sham, and vice ! 

Have mercy on the countless souls 
Who nightly pay the price !" 

Thus, gently sobbing, I awoke ; 

Oh, what a sweet relief ! 
'Twas but a vision of the past, 

That pierced through my belief. 

And the prayers I offered then, 
To eschew the Devil's scheme : 

My crucifix I clasped and kissed — 
Thank God ! Twas but a dream ! 



(91) 



TEMPTATION. 



It matters not the path I tred, 
Temptation lines the way; 

I found it so in early youth, 
And find it so today. 

Yea ! in my heart it early dawned, 

For a lad of seventeen ; 
Beware ! when virtue and rash love, 

On youthful honor lean! 

In wedded life, I surely thought, 
The Devil would forbear, 

Intruding on my faithfulness, 

With fiends who do and dare. 

A wedding ring, upon the hand, 
All men will never heed ; 

For some approach the sacred sign 
To hide a shameless deed. 

In widow's weed I willed to walk, 
Life's thorny path alone; 

At every turn, a villian strove 
My purpose to dethrone. 

For married, single, young and old, 
Were evil tempters all; 

And each supplied a stumbling block, 
Then waited for my fall. 

(92) 



So, loathing all the worldly sort, 
I turned to men of creed — 

Resolving, thus, on higher thought, 
My hungry soul to feed. 

Alas ! e'en now, I find anew, 
Temptation as of old ; 

Yet, by the grace of God, I stand 
Protected in the fold. 



(93) 



HUMAN NATURE. 



Ah ! so weak is our frail human nature ! 

When the power of the devil takes hold ; 
For some fall through a heart overflowing, 

And some fall through the lurings of gold. 

Ah ! so weak is our frail human nature ! 

When sorely we're tempted to stray ; 
Though firmly the heart may be anchored, 

In the faith of our Lord's righteous way. 

Ah ! so weak is our frail human nature ! 

When emotion our reason assails : 
Life's moorings are snapped in the tempest, 

And we hopelessly drift with the gales. 

Ah ! so weak is our frail human nature ! 

When we're put to the keen acid test 
Of choosing betwixt love and duty, — 

Be it evil, or heavenly blest. 

Ah ! so weak is our frail human nature ! 

When into temptation we're led : 
With a love overwhelming the senses, 

The heart proves too strong for the head ; 

For love is the mightiest tempter : 

By love must the world stand or fall ; 

Why, then, is its glorious nectar, 

In the drinking, so oft turned to gall ! 

(94) 



REFUGE OF SINNERS. 



ever glorious Virgin, 

The idol of my sex, 
The maid whom God so honors — 

Pray for poor human wrecks. 

We pray first to the Father, 
When fearful of the past ; 

Then flee to His Holy Mother, 
Till God's appeased at last. 

As any loving mother, 

With a child condemned by man, 
Would offer up her pleading, 

To revoke the Judge's ban — 

Our Mother, Queen of Heaven, 

E'er pleads, before God's throne, 

Compassion for the sinner 

Who mourns his folly sown. 

Sacred Heart of Jesus, 

Hear holy Mary's plea ! 
Thy Mother pleads compassion, 

For all who trust in Thee ! 



(95) 



A FAITHFUL GUIDE. 



Come, gentle Saviour, be my Guide, 
As down life's fleeting years I glide; 
Though stormy passions may assail, 
Yet must Thy gentle voice prevail. 

Thou art a true and faithful Guide, 
Throughout the ways, whate'er betide 
Thy sacred Heart, a hallowed Shrine, 
Wherein to place this love of mine. 

My life's arushing with mad pace, 
But all is well within Thy grace ; 
I calmly follow in Thy way, 
Adown the years till Judgment Day. 

E'en though at times I weary grow — 
(For life's a warfare here below) ; 
Still, dearest Lord, my will is set, 
On speeding upward, faster, yet! 



(96) 



HOLY MOTHER CHURCH. 



See! Holy Mother, 

How the faithful sons of Eve, 
Adown the course of ages, 

To thy holiness do cleave ! 

Thou hearest all our troubles: 

Though black our sins and deep — 

Thou art a loving Mother, 
To prodigals who weep. 

A Guardian Angel given 

To every child from birth: 

Thy love doth e'er encompass 
All children of the earth. 

Thy servants are not sleeping, 
Though thorny be their path; 

For wandering lambs they're searching, 
To appease the Father's wrath. 

Almighty Rock of Ages, 

Built on the Holy Word ! 
Have pity on the hapless — 

Who thy voice have never heard. 

The Church, our Holy Mother, 
To God doth plead and plea : 

'Have mercy on the souls that scorn 
Fair heaven's gift from thee !" 

(97) 



ADVICE TO THE INDIFFERENTIST. 



(Written aboard the S. S. Finland, in the Panama Canal, 
June, 1915.) 

learned men of master minds, 

Devoted but to earth ; 
When you neglect to honor God, 

Your prize has little worth. 

lovely women of the world, 

Who will not heed advice ; 
For vanity voluptuous, 

Your soul may be the price! 

common creatures of the earth, 

(All equal born 'tis said), 
How can it be, you have no care, 

What fate befall the dead ? 

The inner man must still live on, 

(Be he a King or slave) ; 
For we've God's golden promise made, 

Of life beyond the grave. 

you — who choose to lead a life 
To please yourselves alone — 

You'll live to reap the harvest dire, 
Of seeds that you have sown ! 

And why give life's most precious blood, 
To pile up dollars here? 

(98) 



No man can guarantee you life ; 
And death may be so near. 

Why only strive for what you see ? 

The things of sense why crave ? 
Desire for ease and luxury, 

But shackles you a slave. 

Why seek you not life's one true aim, 
Till stricken low in health? 

Why only then do you reflect, 

How worthless is your wealth? 

Man prides him on his force and strength, 
That conquers sea and land; 

The earthquake and Titanic's fate, 
Bespeak a mightier hand. 

cease your wicked strivings now 
For pleasure, pelf, and lust, 

And aim for heavenly treasures bright — 
Which neither pall nor rust. 

Oh why ! oh why ! will you not now, — 

At least just now begin, 
With serious mind, your soul to save 

From hell and mortal sin? 

You know all this is God's own truth ; 

Change all ere 'tis too late : 
Oh, how can you be blinded thus — 

To your eternal Fate! 

(99) 



IN MEMORIAM. 



(An elegy commemorating the death of my beloved 
friend, Bessie Fledora (Mrs. David Warsaw), who died in 
London, October 14th, 1915, after I had returned to my home 
in Los Angeles.) 

In far-off London, sleeping 'neath the sod, 

Locked in the stark and cold embrace of death, 

My darling Bessie lies : would to God 

I still could feel her loving, warming breath ! 

Ah ! what a void of loneliness and pain, 

Within my heart, and mind, and soul abides ! — 

A void which nothing else can fill again ; 
But memories of her : whate'er betides. 

cruel fate ! that I should be away — 

So far away, when death's dread summons 
called ! 
With heart nigh broken, on that fatal day, 

I caught its distant echoings — Appalled! 

And yet, what comfort to my heart it gives, 
To know that Bessie died within the fold 

Of Mother Church, whose consolation lives 

Beyond the grave, and leads to joys untold. 

Her love — a love heroic — fed on mine : 

And taking, gave e'en greater than before : 

Her memory around my heart shall twine, 
Until our spirits blend to part no more. 

(100) 



When sad, and weary, and forlorn, I sought 
The balm of solace love alone could give : 

To her I quickly turned, with heart o'erf raught ; 
She loved me — and she taught me how to live. 

She joyed with me in gladness and in mirth; 

She radiated sunshine in her smile: 
She sorrowed with my sadness in its birth, 

And strove to calm a troubled heart the while. 

She greeted not my folly with a frown ; 

Nor turned she from me in the darkest hour, 
When those I most befriended crushed me down; 

And scheming, sought to hold me in their power. 

Just as a mother would pursue her child, 
E'en to the very gates of hell itself ; 

She followed me caressingly and mild, 

And soon brought back her wayward little elf. 

Oh, how I miss her, when the tides of joy 
O'erflow and flood with ecstasy my soul ! 

And how I miss her, when without alloy, 
The gladness of religion, is my dole. 

Oh, how I miss my darling, when the pangs 

Of smarting pain transfix my wounded heart ! 

And how I miss her, when remorseful fangs 
Sink in my flesh, and tear its folds apart ! 



(101) 



We thought to walk life's highways, side by side ; 

Linked arm in arm, throughout the fleeting 
years — 
Till mouldering age to silent death confide 

The life-long secrets of our hopes and fears. 

Ah me ! how changed the tenor of my life, 

Since Bessie's heart no longer beats with mine ! 

Like her there's none to calm the storms of strife ; 
Her loss in joyless moments I repine. 

Yet, ever and anon, when darkling grief 
Haunts me like a vision of the night, 

I feel her presence near to bring relief ; 

Her form in fancy's outlined in my sight. 

for one glimpse of that sweet face again — 
For just one glimpse, to bid a last farewell; 

For one embrace before the parting pain: 

For one fond touch of sympathy's sweet spell ! 

Someday, on sorrow's doleful wings, I'll fly, 
And pay the tribute of a sighf ul tear : 

To buried love a moaning heart will cry, 

And wail out lamentations o'er her bier ! 

Sleep on ! — in far off London rest thy clay ! 

Sleep on ! — till Gabriel's trumpet burst the sod, 
And reunite in love's eternal day, 

Our kindred souls before the throne of God ! 



(102) 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 

PART I 

Poems Written Before My Conversion 

Page 

A thousand years in thirty- three! 17 

Ah man, immortal man of art, 42 

Away from the city's madd'ning ways, 40 

Don't sit idly thinking and cursing your fate, 28 

Friends! Friendship! the word's a mockery; 27 

Fate, O Master Fate, I know, 46 

Hawaii's beauty is divine, 25 

In fancy I am strolling, 21 

In fair Hawaii's tropic land, 22 

In Rio Janeiro I stood amazed, 30 

I often dreamed of him — my friend, 37 

I stood at the balcony window 38 

I want a castle on the Nile, of elegant device, 44 

I wonder in this mighty world, 52 

If you love me darling, smile, 33 

Keep on asmiling, Jimmie dear, 41 

God, wilt Thou not help me clasp 57 

O heart of mine! will you be still ? 50 

mother! comfort me, 55 

God on high ! wilt Thou tell me why 56 

beautiful gem of the ocean! 23 

come to me my darling! 39 

soft and silky, golden curl! 34 

Soon the ocean rolls between us, dear, 36 

Thou murmuring, sobbing, restless sea! 54 

Time brings to pass all changes great, 26 

That night, beloved, what strange Fate bent your will ? . . 35 

What eyes! Magnetic eyes! What shade ? 32 

What if the world be against you today ? 29 

Yes, dear, I hear you calling, 48 



PART II 

Poems Written After My Conversion 

Page 

Ah, so weak is our frail human nature! 94 

All Hail! Sweet Babe of Bethlehem! 73 

Anointed of the Lord, 67 

'"Buster Barnes," I've many friends, 82 

Come, gentle Saviour, be my Guide, 96 

Farewell, dear friend, sweet friend, farewell, 80 

Forbidden love from out the past, 89 

I know a man who is content, 85 

I sat with old familiar friends, 90 

It matters not the path I tred, 92 

In far-off London, sleeping 'neath the sod, 100 

My faith is not a thin veneer, 72 

My mind is a ship plowing onward with might, 76 

Mother dear, are you o'er-joyed, 84 

No diamond sun-burst now adorns my throat, 74 

O Sacred Heart of Jesus, hear! 71 

One parent lost in childhood days, 70 

O friend of mine with love aflame, 77 

Of all the heroes of my heart, there's one 83 

O phantom that enraptures me! 88 

Of all kind Fortune's given me! 86 

O ever glorious Virgin, 95 

O learned men of master minds, 98 

Sun-kissed we sat beside the glist'ning sea; 81 

See! O Holy Mother, 97 

The curtain's slowing falling, 69 

The fairest flower of Eden, 78 

Tonight all joy must end for me, 87 

When I am weary and alone, 75 

Where rain and sunshine mingle, 79 



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